Silent Night
by Abbicadaby
Summary: Ever wonder what happened to Alice before she was a vampire? I did. Here's my theory... in story form
1. Chapter 1

**August 1, 1913**

Cynthia Brandon walked slowly into the bedroom of her elder sister. Cross-legged, unmoving, her sister stared unseeingly at the wall across from her. Cynthia walked over and tapped her shoulder lightly. Her sister didn't move.

"Alice?" she whispered, worriedly. Still no response was given.

"Mary Alice?" she said, louder this time. Oh no, it was happening again.

Cynthia grasped her sister's shoulders desperately and stared into her unseeing eyes. That was the thing she always admired about Alice, her beautiful, blue eyes. They went so nicely with her long, black ringlets. Now Cynthia hated those eyes, the ones that had taken her sister away from her. They always seemed to stare right through her nowadays, even when Alice wasn't in one of her episodes.

A tear rolled down Cynthia's cheek and she sobbed, "Please, Alice! You have to wake up! They'll take you away if you don't wake up!"

This time Alice did move. She placed her hand on Cynthia's cheek, her eyes still dazed and unmoving. "Don't cry, sissy," she replied and her eyes came back into focus. She turned and stared into Cynthia's tear-stained face. "They will never tear us apart."

Cynthia wasn't so optimistic. She'd heard them talking. She'd heard her father speaking with the man who came with his black bag every week who shined a flashlight on Alice's eyes. She'd heard this man say that they would take Alice away if the episodes didn't stop. She'd hear it all. But Alice wouldn't listen.

Every time that Cynthia begged her to see reason, Alice would always shake her head and pat Cynthia's cheek. That was when Cynthia decided. She decided that she would lie to her parents. She would lie to the man with the black bag. She would do everything she could do to keep her sister safe at home. Who knew what they would do to her in that place?

Alice smiled slightly at Cynthia and patted her cheek as she always did and stood up.

"What did you see this time?" Cynthia asked shakily. Alice froze.

"You don't want to know, sissy," Alice said firmly.

"I'm afraid I do. Very much so," Cynthia insisted and Alice sighed.

"I'm going to go away, sissy, but not anytime soon. A few years maybe," she said and Cynthia's breathe caught in her throat. No, this couldn't be happening.

"Going where?" Cynthia choked.

"I'm not sure," Alice replied wistfully, "but I'm going to meet a handsome man and he's going to be very nice to me."

"That's good," Cynthia sighed, her heart sinking to her toes. Her efforts were wasted. The things Alice saw, had an uncanny way of coming true.


	2. Chapter 2

**January 23, 1919**

"Wake up funny-bones," Alice said as she shook her sister awake. "It's your birthday!" Laughing, Cynthia threw off the covers and sat up. Alice sat down next to her and handed her a small box.

"It's from _Henry_," Alice said slyly. "He couldn't make it to the party, but he told me to make sure it was the first present you opened!"

Cynthia opened the box slowly and what she saw made her heart stop. A ring perched just so atop a hill of velvet, sparkled in the new morning light coming from the window Alice had just opened. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever set eyes on.

Alice, as always, was ten steps ahead of her throwing gown after gown on her sister's bed, trying to decide which she'd force Cynthia to wear to the party tonight.

"I like the blue one," Cynthia offered.

"Yes, but the red one flatters you more. Plus, it was the dress you wore when you met Henry!" Alice countered and Cynthia had to admit that she was right. Henry _had_ complimented that dress many times and always asked why she never wore it. The truth was, the night that she met Henry, Alice had had one of her worse episodes, throwing a fit and telling everyone that she was going to die soon. That had scared Cynthia more than anything, but a year had passed since and Alice hadn't had even one episode. Still, the memory sent her worrying.

They arrived at the party fifteen minutes late. Alice said it was always best to be fashionably late, and well, Alice was usually right about those things. She looked absolutely dazzling tonight, Cynthia felt homelier than ever standing next to her. Alice's short curls, as was the style now, were pinned back behind her ear on one side and the rest of her hair flowed down her other shoulder in a smooth wave. Cynthia's was done up the same way, but it never seemed to look quite right when Alice was standing next to her.

Cynthia was wearing the red dress that Alice had insisted on and she had to admit that it truly was flattering, but the deep purple dress with the low back that Alice was wearing put Cynthia's sparkling ensemble to shame. And Cynthia was just too tall. Alice was petite and willowy, while Cynthia was tall and lanky. No matter how hard she tried to be like her, Cynthia couldn't live up to Alice's beauty. But that didn't bother her in the least.

Alice led Cynthia down the steps and whispered, "Smile birthday girl! Have some fun!" And with that, they continued on to the party.

Cynthia stood at the balcony of the hotel party room, smiling at the full moon and twisting the ring on her right hand, round and round. She was aware of another person on the balcony, but didn't mind. It was her birthday! They'd leave soon enough.

The person moved closer to her and Cynthia frowned and turned to find herself staring at her beloved Henry. Tall and handsome, he was perfect in every way and she loved him more than all the stars in the sky added together.

"You made it!" she cried, but Henry ignored her, staring at the ring on her right hand.

"You know when I gave you that ring, it was meant to go on your left hand, Cynthia," he replied and Cynthia gasped. Henry gently removed the ring from her hand and knelt down on his right knee.

Holding the ring he said, "Cynthia Marie Brandon, on this your seventeenth birthday, I promise I will love you for as long as the earth spins and the stars reign the heavens. Will you marry me?"

Hand on her heart, tears streaming down her face, Cynthia choked, "Yes! Yes! Henry I will! I love you too! I –"

She was suddenly cut off by a scream in the party room. Henry stood up and walked to the glass doorway, motioning her to stay back. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he muttered and Cynthia rushed to his side to see what had happened.

Alice was lying face down in the middle of the dance floor. The man she must have been dancing with was panicking, yelling for someone, anyone, to come and help. Cynthia tore into the room, ignoring Henry's protests and rushed to her sister's side.

Turning her body over, she saw that Alice's eyes were dazed, and unseeing, her lips moving at an unsettling speed.

"Alice!" Cynthia cried. "Alice! Please wake up!"

Alice's eyes remained dazed, but her lips slowed and she uttered the five most painful words Cynthia would ever hear. And she repeated them over and over again, "I am going to die, I am going to die."

A man came up beside her and Cynthia recognized him as Dr. McKnight who had been helping Alice cope with her episodes as of last year. He had a syringe in his hand and he plunged it into Alice's arm, making her jolt suddenly and then become very still. Then he lifted her thin body and carried her away. It took Cynthia a minute to realize what had happened, where Dr. McKnight was taking Alice, but then it dawned on her and her mouth fell open in horror.

"NO!" she wailed, jumping to her feet. "NO! You can't take her! NO!"

Henry grasped her arms as she tried to follow, but Cynthia thrashed and wailed until he finally let go. She reached the outside of the hotel, only to find the ambulance pulling away with Alice inside.

Cynthia's tears finally spilled all the way over and she collapsed in the middle of the street.


	3. Chapter 3

**February 23, 1919**

Alice sat, legs crossed, on the edge of her bed staring unseeingly at the blank wall across from her. Pictures flashed in and out before her eyes as she processed her surroundings. This was the place, the place from her visions.

A soft, gentle knock came on her door. Alice didn't hear it; she was too deep in thought. The door silently opened and Alice was aware of someone entering the room with her. But she still didn't look away from the wall; she was still deep in thought.

"Mary Alice?" a soft, handsome voice questioned. The sheer perfection of the voice is what finally made Alice turn, to see what the object of such beauty might be. She gave the man a blank stare, though she was in mortal shock on the inside. The man wasn't a doctor, he was much too young, but possibly one of the men that trained as interns and helped with patients when the doctors were otherwise occupied. And this young man, about eighteen, was the most heartbreakingly beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on.

"Alice," she whispered, for that was all that she could manage.

"Yes, my mistake. How do you do, Alice?" he responded. Then something occurred to Alice. This man was oddly familiar.

"Do I know you from anywhere, sir?" Alice asked politely.

"No, I'm quite certain that you haven't," he sang in that musical voice of his.

Then it dawned on Alice. This was the man from her visions. The man who would comfort and provide for her while she was in this dark place. The thought she had tried to comfort Cynthia with for so many years was finally standing before her. A weak smile spread across Alice's face.

"What's your name?" Alice asked, curiosity burning inside of her.

"Patrick," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. This was a peculiar gesture because all of the other people had treated her as if she were a child. And of course she'd told them, with at first fervor but now with anger, that she was eighteen years of age and she could take care of herself just fine, but they wouldn't listen. Much like Cynthia had said that Alice wouldn't listen to anything. In a way it was definitively ironic. The thought made Alice laugh.

Patrick walked closer and asked, "What makes you laugh, Alice? Is my name that hilarious?"

"No, no, it's not your name, Patrick, but the thought of how you treat me like a human. Aren't I here because I'm insane?"

Patrick frowned and said, "I don't believe that you are insane, Alice."

"Then what am I? Do tell me Patrick because I ache to know."

"You are graced with a gift that they lack. And the thought that you could have a power such as this over them, frightens the living hell out of them." Patrick grabbed the only chair in the room from the small writing desk and sat down facing Alice.

Patrick's face took on an ashamed look and he pulled out a small paper cup from his jacket. It didn't rattle, though Alice could clearly see the five pills sitting inside.

"I'm not taking that. I won't take it until you prove to me that I've gone crazy!" Alice yelled. She remembered the first month, how they had forced them down her throat. How the pills made her see things that she didn't wish to see and how those things frightened her, night after night. She wouldn't take those pills. She couldn't. Unless she was told that she truly was out of her mind.

Patrick smiled a bit and handed her the cup anyway, steadying her hand so that they wouldn't drop to the floor. His hands were ice cold.

"Take them, Alice. These are sugar pills. They give them to people who think they are sick to make them believe that they are well again. These pills won't give you nightmares. I promise." And with that he stood up, kissed the top of her head and left the room.

Alice jumped up and ran a little ways after him calling, "Do you work the ice baths, Patrick?"

Patrick started walking back. "Why? Do you need one?"

"No. I was just wondering because your hands were so cold."

"Oh. Yes. I do, Alice." And he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**March 1, 1919**

Patrick sat and watched Alice go about her day. Get up, walk around the room, sit down at her writing desk and write in the journal Cynthia had given her as a gift, then sit down on the edge of her bed and think.

Patrick wasn't sure what it was about Alice that intrigued him. Was it her sense of naivety? Her attitude about life? About people?

Nothing seemed to fit in the right place with Alice and that fascinated him beyond any mental capacity of his kind. His kind. His kind were an ancient predator, forced out of the gates of Heaven, bound to Earth for all of eternity, forced to retreat to the lowest form of killing ever idealized: cannibalism. It wasn't so much cannibalism, when you thought hard enough about it. They really only fed on the blood of the human being. But even the thought that he had to be so dependant on something that he once frowned upon with such contempt… well it seemed the feeling couldn't get any worse.

He remembered his perfect life in the 1600s. How his father had always been both concerned and free-spirited at the same time. He had always joked that he was the noblest contradiction in history. Patrick missed his father, his criticism and praise, his love and his hate. That was another remarkable feature of his father's: passion. Oh, how his father had passion! He would always tell Patrick to trust in God and his family and that that was the key to a happy life.

That was how Patrick had died, trusting.

It had been a cold night, Patrick could barely recall the memory into existence, but he did it. The reverie was clouded, as if a veil were hiding his human experiences from him, forcing new ones to take place. But Patrick pulled all of his effort to remember the night that he went out with his best friends to hunt the group of suspected vampires in their part of the country. Now, they weren't just hunting vampires per say, they were hunting any devil-worshipping creature, and the man they had elected as their group leader was said to be wonderful at finding and condemning the right men and women. Carlisle Cullen, they said was his name. His father had been a widely talked minister, thus giving young Carlisle status and credit amongst the Church community.

Carlisle – a particularly handsome man, with sleek gold hair and a subtly muscular frame – was at the head, leading the party slowly through the streets of London. He didn't come across as a very active man to Patrick. He had a consigned look to his face and he seemed startlingly at peace, as if they were hunting deer instead of the very creatures God, Himself, had damned.

Suddenly, Carlisle stopped dead, peering low into a sewer. He spoke in a melodic tone that probably had the ladies swooning wherever he went. He said, "Come out demons, we will not harm you. We wish only to make a bargain."

Patrick had been stunned. Why would he want to make a bargain with the devil's servants? They must be killed and quickly!

Almost as if in response to his thoughts, a high pitched screeching sound came from within the sewer. Within a second, Carlisle was pinned to the ground, crying out in pain. Patrick grabbed a hold of the monster and yanked with all his might, but the creature didn't budge. Suddenly, without warning, something else was piercing his neck, quite painfully. That was the one memory, the very last one when he was completely human, that he reminisced quite vividly: the sheer and utterly horrible pain that started at his neck and burned all the way through his body like wildfire. It paralyzed him and he sank quickly, willingly, into unconsciousness, though the pain did anything but subside.

He had simply to lie there, writhing and thrashing in utter agony until the pain finally, but alas slowly, began to wane. He had risen, full of hunger (or thirst rather), one of the damned beasts he had solemnly promised his father he would defeat. Now he was one of _them_.

He gradually built up his strength, what else was there to do when your life had ended, but you were sentenced to a living hell? He figured that he may as well make the best of it.

And so here he was, just over 300 years later, watching a girl, for the first time, in a way he never thought possible. And she wasn't looking back.


	5. Chapter 5

Alice was sitting outside on the steps that led to the entrance of the asylum. This was one of her better days and Patrick had somehow talked her doctor into letting her get some air. She simply stared at the street watching the people pass by, the women with their fanciful Sunday-hats and the men in their pin-striped trousers and starched collars. Alice remembered the last time she wore her Sunday best. She was amazed to find herself missing the feel of the sharp pins that held her hat in place by poking into her head. She smiled.

Alice leaned her head contentedly against the stone railing of the steps and sighed. As she did so, an incredibly handsome man, dressed in much more than his Sunday best walked up and sat down beside her, laying his cane down next to him and removing his hat at the same time. His brilliant blonde hair seemed to shimmer as if by sunlight, though the day was quite clouded over. He turned to her and smiled a most brilliant smile that melted her heart entirely. He held out a gloved hand saying, "James McIntire, ma'm."

Alice timidly took his hand and replied, "Mary Alice Brandon, sir." She felt incredibly embarrassed at her state of repair. She must've looked god-awful.

The beautiful man contradicted her thoughts by complimenting, "You are quite beautiful, do you know that?"

Alice blushed and the man's eyes widened to the point of sheer impossibility. They seemed in an odd way…hungry. That plus the width of his smile made him a quite frighteningly handsome man and Alice couldn't hold his gaze for long.

The man put a hand underneath her chin and turned it to face his. "You really _are_ quite beautiful," he whispered somewhat hungrily and his sweet breath engulfed her face in bliss. Alice began to wonder what exactly it was that this man wanted. He inclined his face to hers, but instead of the kiss she was expecting, he simply inhaled. He leaned closer and all of a sudden Patrick was on top of him, grasping his arms behind his back.

Horrified, Alice cried, "No! Stop it! He wasn't going to hurt me!"

But Patrick wouldn't comply. He instead placed a foot on the man's back, still grasping his arms, and pushed, dislocating both of his shoulders. James should've howled in pain, but instead a menacing hissing sound rose from out of his throat. He turned around and rotated both of his shoulders back into place. Alice winced as they both came together with a hideous sounding _crrrack. _He pulled Patrick into a headlock that he deftly maneuvered his way out of , expertly flinging James headlong across the sidewalk.

Patrick ran up to Alice and whispered in her ear, "I love you," and then crushed his lips against hers. He pulled away and looked into her eyes firmly saying, "I'm sorry, Alice, but this is going to hurt. A lot."

He then proceeded to bring his lips to her neck. Suddenly, something pierced through her skin and a burning pain spread quickly from there to her shoulders to her hands and proceeded in this same fashion throughout her entire body. The pain itself was sheer fire. She could feel her senses slipping away. But there was one thing she could make out just before the blackness of unconsciousness completely engulfed her.

"NO!" James growled angrily and Alice was suddenly aware of Patrick being ripped from her. There was a deafening crack and then… nothing. Just black. Deep…dark… dank… _agonizing..._ black.


	6. Chapter 6

The pain. The fire. The flames engulfing her skin, surely peeling away her flesh with their touch. This was all that Alice could feel or think about. She'd tried to hold onto the last lingering memory, Patrick's kiss; his words that had tickled the inside of her ear and warmed her body in a different way than these flames.

But as the pain flared on, it not only burned her body, but her mind as well. She began to find herself wondering who exactly it was that had kissed her. Wait, what kiss? She was so confused. The pain became a part of her. It wasn't a thing, it wasn't tangible; it wasn't burning her from the inside out. Soon the pain was simply nonexistent, not because it had let up, but because Alice just couldn't remember what it meant to feel. What was feel? What was going on? How did she get here? Why was her heart slowing? What was a heart? Was it pain? What was pain?

Unfortunately, instead of answers, more questions aroused. She would think one thing and then wonder why she thought that, and then what the thought was even about. This went on for many hours, perhaps even days. What was a day? Soon enough, Mary Alice Brandon ceased to exist.

Her eyelids fluttered open to darkness. No, not darkness, there was a light coming from a contraption directly above her. Where was she? When was she? _Who_ was she? Her touch was extremely sensitive; she was lying on some sort of smooth, shiny surface. She pushed herself into a sitting position and she heard a sharp snap. Startled her head whirled around looking for the source of sound. Her eyes fell to the remains of a faded brown ring with a shiny gold colored device that had snapped in half by her simple movement.

She picked up the brown pieces and examined them; they were rough and had a somewhat squishy, flexible feel, easily bent. One word flashed in her mind, not with sound, but more of a sudden realization.

_Leather. _

The shiny part was cold and hard, and took a bit more effort to bend, though not much. One part swung freely and fit perfectly into a groove in the material. Again, a word flashed in her mind: _buckle._

She put the words together and deduced _leather buckle_. She put that thought off to the side for further use.

Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for something else that was familiar, but unfortunately she found nothing. She was completely alone. A sudden, rhythmic tapping that started far and moved closer caused her to whirl. Another flash: _footsteps._

She wasn't sure why, but it calmed her somewhat. But she kept her muscles tensed in anticipation, just in case. There was a rattle of something close and she leapt from the surface she'd been on and reached a dark corner in less than a second.

An outlined groove in the wall swung open and she felt another flash: _door._ The door opened slowly and a sweet and utterly tempting smell engulfed the room. Something stepped through the door and as it approached her it made a familiar noise. "Alice?" it cooed questioningly. Alice. _Alice. _Recognition flared and she realized this was who she was. This was her _name._ But this was only off to the side. The smell that filled the room had set her throat on fire. The smell was no longer tempting, it was a necessity to quench the fire. The creature moved closer still and without thinking at all, Alice jumped on top of it, sunk her teeth into the creature's flesh and drank.

As she savored the taste, she experienced another flash of recognition: _blood. _Her instincts told her this was good. Blood was good. It _tasted _good. No, that was an understatement, it was agonizingly wonderful.

Alice stood up and observed the still creature before her.

_Human. Woman._

Alice stroked the silky thread that flowed from the human's head. _Hair._ This was good, this knowledge. This would help her. But for some reason, she didn't feel quite satisfied with what she was getting. None of this information seemed important _right now._ She stared harder at the human, but…nothing.

Feeling completely disheartened, Alice left the area. _Room, _she thought as she crossed the threshold of the door into the unknown.


	7. Chapter 7

Alice peered about once outside the room. She was immediately overwhelmed by a rush of sound coming from so many different places it should have overloaded her senses.

But it didn't.

A male human snored behind one door. Footsteps were pacing five doors down. Outside, a car, a model-t by the sound of it, drove past the building which encompassed her. So much knowledge, all those quick realizations pelted her at the same time. Alice grabbed her head and balled up in a corner. There were so many sounds, smells, and she heard and smelled every one of them.

Footsteps once again, echoed down the corridor, growing louder and louder. They were coming closer. Alice's throat felt like it was being ripped from her once more. Within a second, Alice had stood up, whirled around, and kicked down the doors to a separate hallway.

The nurse didn't even have a chance to scream.

Alice left the body where it was, limp and white, and continued down the hallway. Each door she passed caused her throat to tear up in pain and it took every ounce of her self control to just keep walking. Her resolve wavered more than once.

As Alice was feeding on a younger human, a small girl, something strange happened. Pictures flashed before her eyes, vivid and colorful. They repeated themselves over and over again, like a movie being played back more than once at the theatre. They featured a man, with brilliant blonde hair and vividly red eyes, sad eyes. He looked down at the body of a human woman, in a long, white dress with a high neck. She was limp and white, like the people Alice had fed on. The man looked at the woman and choked, "I'm so sorry."


	8. Chapter 8

2 nights later…

Alice sat by herself on a bench outside the general store. She felt both full and unsatisfied at the same time. That clerk had had the same blonde hair as the man from her vision. She hugged herself in the teenager's coat. _Poor Eddie_, she thought. He hadn't seen it coming. He just sort of leaned in and then _poof._ No more Eddie.

She hadn't been able to take the look in his eyes, that glazed, unseeing look that came with death. She'd had to move him. Put him in the dumpster around the back of the store so that she wouldn't have to look at him again.

Now she sat on the bench out front, still seeing him. His blue-green eyes and smooth charm. He'd only wanted to be helpful, to be a good guy. Now he couldn't do any of that anymore.

Alice marveled at how much misery she could bear. She felt like her heart had been torn in two, stitched back up, and then ripped apart again. It was the most mystifying and miserable thing she had ever experienced, at least as far as she knew. This whole world was a mystery to her. She didn't think she'd ever be able to fully fit into it.

Steps echoed about a mile down the street. Alice's heart fell; she knew what was coming. As she geared herself up for the kill, it started again. The pictures flashed in front of her eyes. The beautiful man, the welcome visitor, was smiling at her. She heard herself say, "You're late."

The man's smile grew as he responded, "Sorry to keep you waiting, ma'm." His southern drawl was so perfect, it made her stomach flip. He lifted the fedora from his head and tipped it in her direction. She smiled, both in the vision and to herself. The pictures faded and the overwhelming darkness that had been dominating her seemed to lift and a bright new hope lit her up.


End file.
